


If You Want Something Done Right

by artispain



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Body Worship, Breeding, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Overstimulation, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:07:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24695743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artispain/pseuds/artispain
Summary: Just literal bug breeding filth tyvm
Relationships: Cell (Dragon Ball)/Reader, Cell (Dragon Ball)/You
Comments: 7
Kudos: 104





	If You Want Something Done Right

“Fuck me, Cell. Or….. at least let me touch you. Please?”  
“Are you certain?” His chest rumbles at this. It’s a growl. His hands, wrapped so easily around your wrists, feel like iron bands. But not to harm, no. He is restraining you.   
“I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t certain, Cell.” Your words are confident, but your voice still trembles.   
Towering over you, his face is…… unreadable. At least for a moment. Before his mouth spreads slowly into a crooked malicious grin. He releases your hands.   
Oh gods. He was actually going to…… he was going to let you……..  
Your own confidence deflates as your palms press onto the plates upon his chest. Cool and hard. Smooth. Armor. Your vision hazes as you realize…… all this time you’ve spent with him…… you’ve never actually touched him.   
His arms settle sedately at his sides as he allows this. His eyes remain fixed upon your face. Deep magenta. Intensely focused. Unsettling. That smile still mocking your own impulsive folly.   
Your fingertips trail over these dark plates. They’re nearly glassy smooth. Odd that the nervous sweat upon your skin doesn’t tarnish them. You gulp as you lower your hands down his body. The plating below his sternum is more textured. Not rough, but you can feel patterns and tiny raised surfaces along his spots.  
Your body instinctively jerks as he starts to chuckle.  
“I’m not made of glass, human.”  
“(Y/N)” You’re surprised at the authority and annoyance in your own voice. “I have a name.”  
The bastard manages to make the over exaggerated eye roll look sexy.  
“Of course, (Y/N). By all means. But, I can assure you, there isn’t a thing you could possibly do with that frail flesh that will ever so much as cause me an itch.” His voice is full of amusement.   
And, very slowly, he crouches slightly, bringing his face closer to yours. You blanch and freeze, thinking he’s going to kiss you.   
But he doesn’t. Instead he becomes quite still. You realize he’s brought his face lower so that you can touch it. And tho you actually feel a little frightened now, you know you might not get another such chance.   
His skin is cool too. Soft and hairless. You’d never thought that such a trait would make this much of a texture difference from human skin, but it does. His skin is as butter soft as that of a newborn. Yet taught. The only indication that it is far more impermeable than yours. The purple areas have less malleability than the pale ones.   
He closes his eyes as you touch around them, allowing you to feel the feather soft quality of his lids, the delicate orbital bone structure underneath them, and the ridges where his crest begins.   
You look at the gem atop his head. Hidden between his crests and usually far above you, you had never noticed just how pretty it is.   
When your eyes lower again, your blood freezes. His eyes are open again. Boring into yours. Expressionless. Assessing. Why couldn’t he ever look at you NOT intensely? It is as if he is observing every minute movement you make. From your breathing to that awkward tic that sometimes happens in your cheek when you’re nervous. Like right now.   
Your hands are still cupping his cheeks. You brush your thumb over his lips. He parts them slightly, causing your thumb to brush the smooth edge of a tooth. You freeze as his lips move in speech.  
“You know, when you asked me to fuck you, this isn’t what I was expecting.”   
You huffed. “Well, I’ve never fucked a bioandroid before. It’s not like I know what I’m doing.” Your mouth goes dry as you realize that you’re literally being snippy almost directly in his face.   
Luckily for you, this seems to amuse him.   
“I suppose I’ll have to do this myself then. After all, if you want something done right….. and all that implies.”   
The movements are so swift that you never actually see him move. A sense of cool exposure as your clothing is torn away. Smoothly. You never even feel any tugging from the fabric. You barely register a rapid sense of rotating gravity before you’re crushed between those glossy chest plates and a rock outcropping which had actually been some distance away just a few milliseconds prior.   
You feel his fingers along your scalp as he grasps a palm full of your hair and pulls your head to one side. There’s nothing human at all about the way he’s moving. Inexorably strong, yet pulling in minute sporadic degrees. As if he’s adjusting himself to put your head where he wants it without actually harming you. You know very well that he could remove your scalp from your skull with just the tiniest flick from his wrist. And the idea of him CHOOSING not to do so turns your knees to mush.   
His adjustment to your sudden limpness is smooth and effortless as he wraps the fingers of his free hand around your hip bone and lifts you to him. And yet he’s still watching you. Watching every expression change on your face.   
You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, oddly enjoying the bite of the bony ridges of his pelvis pressing into your thighs. His hand is so large. Your skin prickles with goose flesh at the coolness of his fingers splayed upon your ass cheek.   
His face leaves your vision as he lowers it to your exposed neck. You moan in eagerness. Yet, once again, he does not kiss you. Not exactly. You feel those lips pressing into the thrumming pulse of your jugular. Feel air upon your neck as he exhales. Then inhales again. As if he’s smelling you. Not the incessant snuffling of an animal, but simply breathing deeply.  
You groan as his lips move.  
“Last chance, (Y/N).” His intonation at your moniker is laced with mockery. “After this moment, there will be no limping home to hide from your own impulsivity. If you consent to me now…… you’re MINE.”   
“Stupid, beautiful bastard.” Your voice is a rather unattractive and helpless croak. “I’ve been yours since the very first time you DIDN’T kill me.”  
The air from his chuckle tickles the baby hairs near your ear.  
“Ironic. You calling me stupid.”   
He releases your hair then, his hand traveling down to grasp the other side of your hip. You feel pinpricks of pain as his nails dig into your ass. As he forces your hips into a more accessible angle. His lips part and you feel his teeth graze along your neckline, along your jaw.   
You turn your face, pressing your lips into his. You feel that smug half smile form. Your heart hammers as your eyes open and all you can see is that assessing maddeningly amused gaze.   
You feel his cock prodding against you then. His hips twitch and adjust. You can feel his self restraint. You know that even with the painful stimulus of his nails and hips, he’s actually being far more gentle than what he’s capable of.   
One rapid thrust and he’s seated within you fully. Your eyes scrunch and you cry out against his lips in pain before trying to turn from him. He rotates his face in a way that prevents this. That keeps his unyielding lips pressed against yours. His hips remain mercifully still then. Your palms instinctively press against the smooth plates upon his unmoving chest.   
He is motionless now. Allowing you to adjust to him. Your body quivers and breaks out in a thin sheen of sweat. His girth is unexpected.   
His lips leave yours and you’re finally able to turn your face away. You feel his lips brushing your earlobe.  
“Stimulate yourself.” The command is strangely gentle.   
You’re gasping. But you comply. You reach down with your dominant hand to run your fingertips around your clit. Your eyes still closed, you try to calm your breathing, to simply feel him.   
Every sense seems sharpened. You can hear the chirping of insects. His slow deep breathing. Your shallow gasps. You can smell the subtle strange artificial scent of him. You can feel his lips pressing in that motionless alien way into your cheek. The tip of his nose tickles your temple.   
You can feel your fingers working. You clench around him experimentally. He inhales sharply at this. Strange, how much faster this minuscule loss of control on his part is far more effective than your own touch. Your gasps melt into a quiet mewl. You begin to relax around him.   
He pulls his face from you. Observes you. His face expressionless as he gives a shallow thrust.   
The pain is gone now. Only blooming flames of pleasure. You become impatient and try to thrust yourself upon him.   
The quiet rumble of his chuckling only serves to heighten the sensitivity of the nerve endings in your skin.   
“So impatient.” That grin again.  
You don’t care. “Please…..”  
His pupils dilate. “Yes? What is it that you wish for?” Teasing.   
“Fuck me. Fuck me, Cell. Please.”  
“That’s the idea.” The bastard is utterly smug.   
He backs away from the rock, one hand sliding up to splay across your upper back, supporting your body. The other remaining on your hip, steadying you as he begins a punishing pace. Your teeth rattle as your thighs slap against those hip crests. That’s gonna leave a bruise. You couldn’t give a shit less.   
You watch him above you. The smugness has faded to an expression that is a cross between rage and concentration. He’s no longer looking at your face. He’s watching your joining. Observing the wet slick of his cock sliding in and out of you.   
He’s mostly quiet, save an occasional grunt. And each tiny show of his own arousal is enough to bring you ever closer. You’re vaguely aware of now being wet enough to feel beads of fluid dribble down your ass cheeks. Your muscles flutter around him.   
“Oh, you’re close, aren’t you?” it was obvious that he’d meant this to be mocking. But his clenched teeth belie the question.   
You don’t answer. You don’t need to. Your throat makes a strangled noise as your legs stretch out and your toes curl in the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had in your life.   
His back arches and you can only gaze in helpless pleasure as his face, now close to yours again, stretches silently. His lips pull taught over his perfect teeth. His eyes widen. But, as he soundlessly pours his release into you, he never breaks eye contact.   
You watch his face relax back into that beautiful calm façade again. He hasn’t stopped his powerful thrusting. Hasn’t even slowed. You feel the first tingles of over stimulation and pull your hand away from yourself.  
He laughs then.  
“Mine, remember?” His thumb slides over to continue the job your fingers had left. “Pace yourself, little human. I’m not even close to being finished with you.”   
Your body squirms even as your pussy betrays you with fresh waves of pleasure.   
“Really, you’re quite entertaining when you’re full of my cock. I’m curious about the viability of our offspring.”   
You gasp. “What??”  
More laughter. “Is there any other purpose for this? Other than to fill you with my child?”   
Throughout this conversation, the power of his thrusts have only intensified. You feel another orgasm rapidly building.   
““Don’t fret, fragile thing.” Mocking. “In fact, you should rejoice. As of now, you’re the safest creature on this planet.” More laughter.   
You feel the first quivers of your second orgasm mingle with his. His pace never slows.


End file.
